


Paper on Paper

by stungrenade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - College/University, LSD, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, but it does happen irl, dont do drugs guys, weird metaphorical frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-19 17:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20213791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stungrenade/pseuds/stungrenade
Summary: “This stuff is pretty strong,” Akaashi says in his usual deadpan. “You can cut it in half if you want to.”Kuroo has no intention of cutting it in half. If he’s interpreting the look on Bokuto’s face right, then Bokuto isn’t thinking of doing that either.





	Paper on Paper

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this cus i was thinking about the last time i tripped and wanted to try describing how it feels.. then i blinked and suddenly it was weird sex sorry about it

When Akaashi first brings up dropping acid, Kuroo is a bit skeptical. It’s not like he’s straight edge or anything, he’s smoked his fair share of weed and gotten wasted enough times that his brain should be permanently fried, but psychedelics are a whole different can of worms he hasn’t been able to dip his toes into yet. Not because he’s afraid of them or anything, he’s just never been presented with the opportunity.

From what he’s read about them on the internet in passing, he figures he would enjoy them, considering his favorite highs are the ones that leave him practically a vegetable. There’s just something so gratifying and humbling about not being able to control your mind or body at all. In a backwards ass way, pushing his brain to its physical limits makes Kuroo feel that much more alive once it’s over.

The closest he thinks he’s ever been to total unresponsiveness was caused by a very potent edible at a party that he ate without realizing, rendering him completely useless and incapacitated for the entire night. Kuroo imagines acid would pick him up by the back of his neck and leave him in a similar state.

On the other hand, he’s also heard a large amount of horror stories. LSD is one hell of a drug, and there is no shortage of anecdotal disasters to keep a guy wary of it. Tales such as: “My friend jumped off a roof because he thought he could fly”, “my friend ripped his skin off and DIED”, and “I went to the hospital and went psycho for many months”, to name a few examples.

Akaashi tells him that’s all fear mongering bullshit, though. Something about the system not wanting the general public to open their eyes and access their full potential or whatever strange garbage “enlightened druggies” like him always say. He assures Kuroo that as long as he prepares himself and researches enough beforehand, he should be perfectly fine. He offers to sell him a few tabs and tripsit for him if he wants. When Kuroo asks if Bokuto can trip with him, Akaashi simply shrugs in reply. 

“It’s up to him,” he says. “I can probably handle the two of you.”

Maybe it’s weird that Kuroo’s best friend’s best friend is a dealer. He guesses it makes sense, though. Bokuto has an addictive personality, so Akaashi is the perfect enabler. Kuroo knows that Bokuto has tried more drugs than Kuroo can count on both hands, but he’s sort of okay with it, considering Bokuto made a pinky promise with him to stay away from the real dangerous stuff.

Nevertheless, Kuroo agrees to the offer. A few weeks later, he finds himself sitting in Bokuto’s dorm room, Akaashi in front of them holding a small bag filled with wads of tinfoil.

“This stuff is pretty strong,” Akaashi says in his usual deadpan. “You can cut it in half if you want to.”

Kuroo has no intention of cutting it in half. If he’s interpreting the look on Bokuto’s face right, then Bokuto isn’t thinking of doing that either. Never one to half ass shit, Kuroo unwraps his tinfoil wad, staring down the little square inside. It’s almost kind of freakish, he thinks to himself, how something this small is about to throw him into a potentially twelve hour long experience.

“On your tongue, just let it melt itself,” Akaashi instructs, reclining in his chair and tossing his plastic bag into the trash.

If Kuroo’s research has done him any good, he should have a good twenty to thirty minutes before it starts to kick in. Leaning back into Bokuto’s bed, he cracks his neck and sighs. From the floor next to him, Bokuto laughs to himself, an excited chirp that makes Kuroo smile.

Akaashi is on his phone, looking disinterested as ever, and it relaxes Kuroo. Akaashi isn’t worrying, and neither is Bokuto. He’s going to have fun tonight. 

Before he knows it, his face is starting to go numb and maintaining a coherent conversation is beginning to become very difficult. He can’t help but think it’s hilarious, but he still glances over at Akaashi just to make sure it’s okay. Akaashi simply stares at him and gives him a thumbs up, and the anxiety slowly ebbs away. He doesn’t know how much time has passed until he turns his head towards Bokuto instead, a movement that turns out to be much more of a challenge than he anticipated, and sees him totally checked out on the floor. 

“Bo?” he asks, and hearing his own voice sounds very foreign to him. At the sound of his name, Bokuto’s head snaps up, and he grins big and wide. His smile is so brilliant Kuroo has to squint to see it right. 

“It’s good, Tetsu,” Bokuto answers, even though Kuroo hasn’t asked him that question yet. “It’s all good.”

Any doubt Kuroo had left in him vanishes completely. He lets every muscle in his body relax into the bed, perfectly content with leaving himself alone with his mind.

Kuroo keeps losing chunks of time, blacking out for long moments and shaking himself awake every now and then. Maybe he’s saying things or doing things, but the memories don’t last very long. Before he can even comprehend it, it's dark outside and Bokuto is now next to him on the bed. Akaashi leans over in his seat to start playing music from the nearest set of speakers, and Kuroo has honestly forgotten he was there to begin with. 

Right now, Akaashi isn’t a person, not a live human being capable of movement or thought, but a physical pillar of confidence and support. And Kuroo tells him that. Akaashi snorts at the comment, thanking Kuroo curtly before focusing back on his phone.

Everything around Kuroo feels like it’s pulsating. He’s pretty sure he’s in the belly of some sort of large beast, because the mattress supporting him feels more like soft, wet intestines than fabric and cushions. The walls of the room are convulsing every now and then to mimic the contractions of the animal’s digestive tract, the floor coated in a boiling pool of stomach acids that Kuroo has to remind Akaashi not to touch with his feet. 

And Bokuto-- Bokuto is right next to him the whole time, a glowing light that makes him feel whole and safe. He turns to tell Bokuto how he feels, but all his words sound like a different language. Bokuto seems to understand, though, and Kuroo gloats at the feeling of being understood.

Bokuto grabs Kuroo’s hand then, the physical contact effectively sparking their new mental connection, and the first thing Bo puts in his mind is a series of notes of affection. They sing loud and clear in Kuroo’s rattling cranium, and he tries his very best to focus on Bokuto’s face. Facial recognition is not something that Kuroo is equipped to deal with at the moment, but Bokuto doesn’t really have to look like Bokuto. Bokuto and the physical form holding onto his hand at the moment still have the same energy, and that’s more than enough for Kuroo to recognize him. 

He’s suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss Bokuto, tell him how much he loves him, and make sure he knows it well. When he grabs Bokuto by the face to let him know, Bokuto smiles even wider, saying something about Akaashi. Akaashi isn’t here, though, Kuroo reminds him. It’s just the concept of him that’s sitting in the chair, keeping both of them safe and away from any harm. Bokuto accepts this idea immediately, and happily lets Kuroo close the distance between them.

It’s like the feeling of Bokuto’s mouth against his is the only thing Kuroo has ever needed in his life. He’s peaking, he’s out of the beast’s stomach and now stranded in a desert, and it’s so hot and dry and Bokuto’s physical mouth is the oasis he has been looking for all his life. 

Kuroo’s brain is bombarded with so many responses at once that he feels like the organ is going to short out and explode. Maybe it’s already gooping and melting and dripping out of his ears, but Kuroo can’t fucking tell. All he knows is that Bokuto’s body is sturdy as hell, and he’s feeling it up and down with all three of his hands. Each groan that spills out of Bokuto’s mouth and into Kuroo’s tastes like honey. It’s the most amazing and enlightening experience of Kuroo’s life, and he wonders to himself how he’s gone this long without it.

Every square inch of his body is on fire, although he can’t exactly name which parts of him feel what, since he’s not sure if he’s made of bones and muscle and blood or cotton and paper mache. It doesn’t matter, though, because Bokuto is rocking up against him and the friction of paper on paper feels so fucking good Kuroo just might die. Wait, is he about to die?

He can feel his heart pounding somewhere in him, keeping him alive for now, but something is building up behind it, coiling in his chest and about to snap. Kuroo thinks for a second that this is his life, about to end the second Bokuto takes him to the edge. He’s strangely okay with it. 

Bokuto’s hands find Kuroo’s hips, grasping onto them and holding them down so he can chase the feeling to the end. The coil inside Kuroo tightens more and more still, and he’s not sure how much more he can handle. His brain is swimming with absolute nonsense, and all he can do is lay there and take it, fingers digging into the dense meat of Bokuto’s biceps.

When he cums, he swears it’s the hardest he’s ever cummed in his life. And when he begins to black out again, he’s sure he’s on his way to death. The wave of pure, unadulterated peace that falls over him is something he has never experienced before.

A few hours later, Kuroo blinks his way out of it, grasping at his phone to check the time. His head feels way too clear and coherent, and he sighs and props himself up on his elbows. Akaashi immediately notices his change in behavior, tearing his eyes away from the TV screen to check on Kuroo.

“Only six hours, huh?” he asks, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I guess,” Kuroo answers, turning to look at Bokuto, who is one hundred percent enthralled in the movie Akaashi has put on. 

“You must have a fast metabolism or something,” Akaashi mutters, turning the volume of his music down a bit.

It’s then when Kuroo notices that the TV is on mute, that Akaashi is playing this movie for them without sound or even subtitles. He laughs at the mental image of Akaashi, absolutely sober this whole time, watching him and Bokuto act like total idiots.

It’s then when Kuroo also notices the wet spot in his pants. It all hits him at once like he’s just walked into a wall, and he’s fucking mortified. Did Akaashi... Was Akaashi there for that?

Kuroo swallows, swinging himself off the bed to get up and walk for the first time in six hours. His legs feel like jelly, and he’s not sure if it’s from the lack of movement or from the bizarre orgasm he experienced earlier. He excuses himself to the bathroom and cleans himself up, shucking his ruined underwear into Bokuto’s hamper.

Walking back to Bokuto’s room, Kuroo can feel every drop of blood draining from his face. He hopes to whatever god is up there that Akaashi wasn’t looking, or that he was busy with something else, or even caught on to what was about to happen and left the room to spare their dignity. Or maybe he’s tripsat before and seen shit like that happen. Hell, maybe it’s normal and Akaashi has done it himself! 

Kuroo grips the doorknob with a sweaty hand, still not with enough wits about him to unpack the way he’s going to handle this with Akaashi later, let alone with Bokuto.

Whatever. If Akaashi doesn’t say anything about it, then he won’t either. 


End file.
